My hero

I would like to be Elastigirl.  

You know, the mom from the "Incredibles" who can stretch and contort her body.  She can simultaneously stop a WWF wrestling match between her kids and at the same time cook dinner. She can catch her hubby at the curb BEFORE he leaves for work with just her index finger, and she can vacuum while sitting in a chair.   Not to mention the fun that she and Mr. Incredible can have behind closed doors!  She has the perfect "mom" super power.

To be completely honest,  I feel that the only way to accomplish every thing that needs to be done in the course of a day is to have super powers.  Or a maid. 

I say this because yesterday I swept and vacuumed the same area in my home no less than 5 times.  Now, part of this is my fault, because I allow Ellerie, my one year old, to cruise around the first floor with snack in hand, but quite honestly, El has a will of her own when it comes to feeding herself and that is a battle that is not worth fighting especially since the end desired result is that she feeds herself. Also, she can climb in and out of her high chair, so even if I put her in, she pulls a Houdini.  So, consequently, she leaves a trail of crumbs in her wake every day that is similar to that of Hansel and Gretel.  I can always deduce her path by tracing the path of destruction.  

Other contributors to my daily mess are Frick and Frack, my other two kiddies.  Frick, (Ab) the oldest, seems to think that any and all art projects require glitter or tiny little pieces of confetti paper.  And, even though there is a designated art spot in our home, I think that glitter and those little confetti pieces have a super static electricity property because they seem to hitch hike to the nether regions of my house.  I mean, seriously, how does glitter get into my bedroom closet otherwise?  (And no, I do not partake of besparkled lingerie.  Neither does hubby.)  Frack,  (E) while in no way a crafty kid, is however, a four year old boy.  Enough said.  This is the child that one night emptied his pocket on my dining room table to look for his "candy" and instead produced  2 worms, a stick, a rock,  several unidentified dead bugs, and dirt. . . during dinner.  That was the night that I made the rule that "Worms Don't Wash," in the hopes that I never find one of those lovely squishy creatures while doing a load of laundry.

Anyway, what with cheesy cracker crumbs, glitter, paper, and boy debris, it feels as if that area is never clean.  But . . .

If I were Elastigirl, I could rubber band El into her high chair with one arm, and with the other jostle E upside down by his ankle, sprinkling all of his goodies from his pockets BEFORE he comes into the house.   And as for the glitter . . .

I could use it to accessorize my fabulous super suit!